


Rhythmic Slide

by raffinit



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Frottage, Mild Lactation Kink, Mumble Rockatansky-Jo Bassa, Valkyrie Rockatanksy-Jo Bassa, mentions of fanbabies, mild fecundity kink, references of pregnancy and birth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-18 00:43:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7292638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raffinit/pseuds/raffinit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for @youkaiyume's prompt for smutty_art_fic_trade involving skin-on-skin frottage but like not between the butt cheeks. What even is the straight version of slip-sliding like that</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rhythmic Slide

He knows that look in her eyes far too well.

"Shouldn't," he says, but when he shakes his head at her, it's more indulgent than anything.

"It's been six weeks," Furiosa says, coming upon him with nothing short of a predatory look on her face and a hungry gleam in her emerald eyes that has his stomach roiling eagerly. "I waited enough."

"Should - hmmn, be careful," he mumbles, and tilts his head up to look at Furiosa as she comes to him with a surge and greedy lips. He leans into her kisses, hands brace to the swell of her hips; fuller now so soon after birth, soft and lush and delicious in his hands, and Max lets wandering fingers press under her flowing blouse.

Max goes easily when she pushes him down with her hand, rumbles in his throat the way he know Furiosa delights in when she throws one long leg over his hips for a straddle. He lets his hands weave up against her skin, stroking up over the skin of her bowed back, touches the muscles and ridges of her shoulder blades from where she hovers over him. The kisses slow, soft and deep and breath shared between them as he tugs her blouse off her body, blinking dazedly up at her with no scant amount of awe.

She looks down at him with a wry little smile. “What?”

He shakes his head, cheeks warm and eyes soft and hooded on her face as he lets his hands span up around her shoulders, anchoring her against him as he leans up for another kiss. 

“You sure?” he whispers, words damp against her lips and leaden with the many things he has never learned to say to her. There are days when words come easy to him; when he remembers a sense of humor and old stories that entailed idiotic plots of herding emus away from long stretches of highways. The same way there are days when his eyes see only the past, and his ghosts take their place in the dark circles of his eyes. 

Furiosa’s hand reaches to cup his grizzled cheek, a look far warmer and softer than he thinks he deserves. It’s not as if they haven’t done this before; Val’s birth had been hard, had come with stitches and a need for blood and bedrest that had left Furiosa nearly frothing at the mouth from confinement. He had been terrified for her and their baby, but as soon as Furiosa had passed the six-week mark of her recovery, there was little he could do to keep Furiosa from getting what she wanted.

Not much has seemed to change now with the birth of their son. He’s only relieved that Mumble’s birth had been easier for her; the boy had come quietly and easily into his mother’s arms, surrounded in green and light and warm. 

He opens his mouth to speak again, but whatever it is he’d thought to say goes melting into a groan when she grinds down against him again. 

“Want you inside," she breathes, a moan catching in her throat when Max runs a thumb over a sensitive nipple. Her hips rock over his in slow, purposeful strokes, grinding down with just the right of pressure to press against the hard seam of his pants. 

“Hhhhhf.”

A cant of his hips up, sharp and rough has them rolling, and Max pins Furiosa to the bed easily with the bulk of his body as his greedy hands free her of her pants and blouse. He latches his mouth onto the dip of her neck and growls approvingly at the way her hips shimmy and lift as he slides her pants down her long legs and bends to press a reverent kiss along the inside of her knee. Pushing her knees apart he can see and smell her arousal, the deep flush of her folds and the flashes of pink hidden just beneath the tight curls between her legs, and he mouths over the skin of her thighs; hot, biting suction that has Furiosa’s hips bucking. He’s up to the soft, sensitive skin along the seam of her thighs when she presses her half-arm to the tuft of his hair and nudging him impatiently. 

“Mm?” He peers up at her, feels his skin prickling heat into his belly at the wanton and vicious look on her face. His hands squeeze into her thighs just on the edge of too-hard, and Furiosa hooks her leg against his back to urge him closer to her.

“Stop teasing,” she hisses, “get naked and fuck me.”

He smiles against her skin, stays there just a moment longer to press a lingering kiss to her thigh before surging forward for a hard, probing lick across her folds. Furiosa clamps her thighs against him with a loud swear, and Max grins at the withering look she gives him as he sheds his clothing. 

He drapes himself over her, careful in the way he braces most of his weight from her body and the way their legs tangle together. His cock is snugged between her thighs, slicking against her folds as he rolls his hips gently against her in the way Furiosa likes best. Her head falls back against the covers and she moans eagerly, flesh hand wriggling between them to wrap around the hot base of him and sliding up his shaft with each stroke. Max drops his head against her chest with a groan, panting and warm as he takes to marking her skin with desperate kisses and possessive teeth as his cock leaks against her fingers as they run over the head of it. 

“Come inside me,” Furiosa purrs, teeth bared and nipping against his ear. “I miss you inside me.” Her fingers tighten around his cock, squeezing just under the mushroom-tip of him, and Max ruts forward into her grip with a stuttering moan of her name. 

She guides him down to her entrance, lets him rub against her slick hole for a moment until they both decide that he’s wet enough to slide in. The initial push comes with a sudden hitch in Furiosa’s breath, a tight jerk and corded muscle in her neck as Max eases in the first inch, and when the shadow of a pinch appears on her features he stops entirely. 

“Too much?” he asks worriedly, hands stroking over her shoulder, touching her cheek with the back of his finger. They’re not strangers to pain, sometimes even prefer it, but Max is nothing if not a quick study in all things Furiosa. 

Furiosa’s lips press together in a thin line, but her half-arm comes around his neck to urge him closer to her again. “‘s fine,” she says, fingers running a circuit around her clit slowly. “Just - more than I thought.”

He pulls back and out amidst confused and belligerent protests, but Max presses her back down gently, brows pulled tight over his face and mouth braced in a frown. A quick glance down between them tells him exactly what he’d feared from the beginning - she’s filthy wet and eager, but even if her clit is beginning to swell and flush, her folds and entrance are red-raw and look to be far too sensitive now. He chances a slow thrust against them again, and Furiosa flinches despite herself. 

“It’s fine,” she says immediately, pushing herself up on her half-arm. “I can take it.”

Max shakes his head, frown deepening on his face as he lays a hand gently over her own fingers, trails the circle around her clit with his own thumb. “Can use my mouth,” he offers, swiping a finger along the hood of her clit, dropping down to rub around her entrance. She’s wet enough that his fingers are sliding against her pussy with a slick squelch, and when Max slicks his cock over her parted folds, the noise is accompanied by a low, throaty moan. 

“Later,” Furiosa sighs, leaning back with a blissful flush high in her cheeks. “Just like that.”

So he rocks against her carefully, her hand and his overlapped against the hot and pulsing skin of his shaft as he grinds and rocks and thrusts. The head of his cock is nearly painfully red, leaking cum that Furiosa swipes onto her fingers and uses to rub over her clit. The wetness of her is nearly too much; Max bears his weight down harder against her body, panting with effort as Furiosa rocks and jolts and whimpers beneath him. 

He lets his free hand slide up over the diamond of her ribcage, cups her breast with just enough pressure to have a silky bead of milk appear on her nipple. Something warms and flares in his hindbrain at it; a hidden primal part that has delighted in the way she had become swollen with their children and her breasts full with milk to feed them. It’ll never be something he’ll ever put into words, but seeing Furiosa soft and glowing with a belly full of his seed woke something... _ alpha  _ in him. 

But when he looks down into her face, he can only think of the ways her skin blushes warm and pink under his touch, the way she looks with eyes hooded and lost in the pleasure that he gives her. The sweat that pools and cools in the dip of her breasts and the taste of her milk on his tongue is sweeter than any ambrosia for the gods, in the way she moans his name and begs him without saying much else. The way she bites down on her lip and keens as her fingers twine into his as they rock and grind together desperately into oblivion. 

“Furiosa,” he rasps, chokes on a moan as she rubs her thumb around the tip of him. His hips are jerking frantically against her now, the filthy sound of their bodies gliding against one another as Furiosa’s breath comes out faster and higher and sharper the more he moves. 

She gets there before he does; a burst of twitching limbs and wetness and writhing hips. Her flailing foot catches on his shoulder, then his chest, and Max slumps down onto the bed with a stunned grunt. Her body shudders with it, her clit flushed pink and tender as she cups her dripping pussy amidst the aftershocks and clamps her thighs together. “S-sensitive,” she mumbles, nearly giddy from it as he sits and waits, chest heaving as he soothes and strokes his hands over the length of her body gently through it. 

“Shouldn’t have pushed,” he murmurs guiltily, hovering over her pale, sweaty form as he stretches out on the bed beside her, presses against her body on his side until the worst of the twitching subsides. “Should’ve gone slow.” He shakes his head, pressing small, soft, apologetic kisses along the ridge of her brow, the sweat of her hairline.

His arms wrap around her frame and he pulls her flush to him, holds her to his body and feels the steadying thrum of her heart against his fingers and his chest as Furiosa nuzzles into the crook of his neck. 

“Didn’t hurt me, fool,” Furiosa mumbles, leaning up to the feathery kiss he plants along her hairline. “Just too good at what you do.” She grins against his skin before she sucks a dark bruise into his neck and her hand slides along his belly to his straining cock. “I can still do  _ this _ .”


End file.
